Summer Storms
by Ash Road
Summary: The life of a shinobi is lived in bursts, quick and sudden and violent as summer storms. Collection of Naruto vignettes, various characters and pairings.
1. Chameleon

**Title:** Chameleon  
**Words:** 340  
**Character(s): **Sasuke, mentions of Orochimaru and Itachi  
**Pairing(s):** None  
**Summary:** Chameleons take on the colors of their environments. Sasuke, it seems, does too.  
**A/n:** Just a random little creepy drabble thing written while trying to avoid doing my insane amounts of homework. Thoughts, anyone?

* * *

The marks are staying longer and longer. They don't fade when he deactivates the seal, reverting from the Cursed Seal state. No. Now they remain for long periods of time, hideous designs twisting across his body like the skin of a snake, retreating only reluctantly.

It doesn't matter to him at first, and he continues to use the power given to him by his new master, regardless of the consequences. He simply dismisses this new development, and time passes.

So it comes as a bit of a shock to him when he gets the next glimpse of his reflection.

When Sasuke looks in mirror for the first time in months, he is shocked to see the marks still on his face. Marks he knows are from a battle that took place three weeks earlier.

Ever since then, he has avoided mirrors, preferring not to look at the patterns on his skin, trying to ignore the symbols of a power not his own.

Still, he can't help but see his face, and the strange new patterns that adorn it every once in a while. He catches fleeting glances in ponds, in the glass of the few windows that are scattered throughout Otogakure, and each time, he averts his eyes quickly, disgusted at what he sees.

One day, the marks simply don't fade. They are there, sinister, indelible designs that nothing can remove. Now, instead of extending further across his body, they grow bigger, claiming more of his flesh every time the seal is activated.

Eventually, he stops noticing the skin of a snake over his own. He no longer sees the inky blotches that signal Orochimaru's control over his fate. He doesn't care anymore, even though the day that his entire body will be black is fast approaching.

Power is power, in any form. If these marks give him the power to defeat Itachi, then so be it. He will take what he can get, if it means he is closer to revenge.

Besides, black has always been his favorite color.


	2. Gun Shy

**Title:** Gun Shy  
**Words:** 680  
**Character(s): **Rin, Kakashi, oblique mentions of Minato (Yondiame) and Obito  
**Pairing(s):** Kakashi/Rin  
**Summary:** They have stolen Kakashi, and given her back a soldier.  
**A/n:** Written a couple of years ago, just never got around to posting it. Please review? I need some feedback on all the weird stuff I write :) Inspired by and named after the 10,000 Maniacs song "Gun Shy."

* * *

She is pressed against the doorframe, the wooden panels leaving imprints on her back. His mouth is on her hers, her hands tangled in his hair, and her blood is ablaze inside her veins.

He kisses her deeply, and her world narrows to the wildfire racing across her skin, scorching her. She's on fire, burning, burning, burning–

Until he breaks away, holds her at arms length. His visible eye is wild, and his breath is haggard, but he maintains the distance between them.

"I'm leaving soon. A-rank mission."

It shouldn't surprise her now. It shouldn't, but it does, and she sucks in a shaky breath.

"For how long?"

"Don't know. As long as is required."

His gaze is cooling now, his breathing returning to normal. He doesn't seem like the man who just had her pressed against a door, who just kissed her senseless. They've stolen him so thoroughly it is hard to contemplate; she can no longer see the boy she once knew, who laughed at sensei's jokes and squabbled with his best friend.

Who loved her, once.

"When?"

He stays silent for a moment, his penetrating gaze focused everywhere but on her.

In a way, she is glad for the silence. This is the question that will kill her, send shards of glass through her when he answers. It is the question that kills her every time they go through these motions.

Kiss.

Talk.

Leave.

Repeat.

The silence stretches on, a yawning black hole that threatens to encompass her.

"When?" Her voice cracks this time.

"Tomorrow."

The syllables are sharp in his detached tone, tiny pinpricks of pain that push their way beneath her skin and into her chest.

_Tomorrow. _The word hurts.

She's long since stopped arguing with him. There's no point in telling him that he doesn't _need_ to take the mission. No point in telling him that a few days rest, a few days peace won't kill him, won't make him a traitor to their memory.

_Aren't I enough? Why can't I just be enough? _

She wants to scream it at him, wants to force an answer out of him, and the words tear at her throat, but she remains silent. She doesn't ask, doesn't argue.

He's always been more stubborn by far. Nothing she can say will change him, pull him off this path of guilt and sorrow. Kakashi is a soldier now, hollowed out by regret and stained with the blood of those he failed to save. So she is quiet.

Instead of speak, when he can no longer hear her, she reaches out and strokes the scar running through his eye. He doesn't pull her hand away, but places his hand over hers. He has not heard her in a long time, but it seems that she can still touch him.

His palm is warm. She can feel the calluses, the scars on his skin, proof of life in a world of death. He's a survivor.

He's a survivor, and yet still he does not live.

_Why can't I be enough, Kakashi? You said you'd die to protect me. Am I not worth living for?_

Her fingers continue their trail, caressing the side of his face, the line of his jaw, and her lips move of their own accord. She's not as in control of her words as she thought she was.

"What a good little soldier they've made out of you."

And just like that, he's gone, and she's left with her hand holding nothing but air.

It shouldn't surprise her anymore, but really, it does.

She walks away from the door and collapses on her bed, still fully clothed. Her medic's pack is pressing uncomfortably into her hip, and she wants to cry, but she ran out of tears a long time ago.

She's a soldier, too.

She lies there until sleep comes, her head fuzzy and lips still bruised with his kisses.

"_I don't mean to hurt you by saying this again, they're so good at making soldiers but not as good, not as good at making men."_

_

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Review, please?


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